


Could Be Worse (Or This Just Jinxed Us)

by moriann



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Community: galentinesday, Gen, Instant Ramen, questionable life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriann/pseuds/moriann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye knew that their streak of successful missions would have to come to an end at some point, but she really hoped that if she was ever stranded in the middle of nowhere it would be somewhere warm and preferably in a city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could Be Worse (Or This Just Jinxed Us)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jain/gifts).



Skye knew that their streak of successful missions would have to come to an end at some point, but she really hoped that if she was ever stranded in the middle of nowhere it would be somewhere warm and preferably in a city. Instead, her and Simmons are trudging down a muddy path, at the end of which there’s supposed to be a SHIELD safe house. The weather is not helping things, the cold, watery mush falling from the clouds has soaked right through her clothes, and the wind is doing its best to freeze them into a sheet of ice.

“Honestly, how far is it? Because I’m beginning to think that this is what the climate in hell is like, and the the people who envision it as a land of fiery pits just haven’t experienced _this_.” She rubs her hands together, but it doesn’t seem to do any good. 

“It’s just sleet, it’s really nothing. It’s not that bad until it gets colder and it starts hailing,” Simmons answers, sounding way to upbeat considering their circumstances, and Skye is hoping this hasn’t just jinxed them. On the other hand, this might be as bad as it gets without them being under attack.

As if trying to prove her wrong, her flashlight chooses this moment to flicker and die, leaving them with only the moonlight to navigate the path by.

–--

When they do reach the safe house, as far as Skye is concerned, the only positive thing about it was that the comm unit is working and they were able to call for transport and won’t be stuck there for longer than a few hours. The downsides are make up much longer list, one consisting of almost everything else: the tap water is barely lukewarm and tinged yellow, the temperature inside is barely higher than outside, and the only furniture is a single kitchen cabinet and a fridge that’s probably older than both of them combined. She drops down to sit on the backpack she dropped in the corner after they came in, and wonders if she should maybe just pass the time watching the water seep out of her gear and form a puddle around her, trying not to think too much about what happened to the rest of the team after they got separated and why they still haven’t checked in.

She would have expected Simmons to be at least a little bit miserable, but instead, she’s cheerfully digging through the odds and ends filling the cupboard.

“Please tell me there’s food in here somewhere,” says Skye.

“Hmm, doesn’t look like it,” answers Simmons. “Maybe check the fridge?”

Skye doesn’t get her hopes up, because she can see it’s not plugged in, so anything that’s inside has probably gone irreparably bad, but she makes herself get up and get over there to check. Inside, there’s only a huge half-empty bottle of vodka. She takes it out, vaguely remembering that alcohol can help warm up. She hears a muffled _Hah!_ , and turns to Simmons to see what’s caused it.

“Look! Instant ramen!” she says, brandishing two small gaudily colored bags. “Food of champions!”

Skye raises the vodka in answer and wonders if she should be worried about the _Ooh_ she gets in return.

“We could make alcosoup!” exclaims Simmons, eyes lighting up.

“Alco… soup?” asks Skye, closing the fridge and sitting down on the floor by the cabinet, the bottle clutched in her hand. The wrinkled label is a terrible shade of green, and when she smoothes it out, she notices it has a drawing of a bison in the middle.

“Yes! We make it once when I was at the Academy. You make the instant ramen, but replace half the hot water the instructions ask for with alcohol.” Having seen what kind of things the kids at the Academy consider good fun, Skye thinks it’s probably better not to let Simmons do a practical presentation.

“I don’t even want to know how someone came up with this combination. And how they thought it would be a good idea.”

“Well, admittedly, it might have been on a bet. Though the noodles somehow turned out to be delicious.”

Simmons looks like just the thought of those noodles is enough to warm her up, but the level of specificity in that sentence makes Skye pause, so she asks, “And the rest of it?” and sees her wince.

“I think the liquid part could be more accurately classified as an olfactory weapon of mass destruction,” she says, and adds, “but that might have also been because we were using the moonshine Tina Vidmar was brewing in the dorm’s bathroom instead of proper alcohol. Or possibly one of the chemicals in the artificial seasoning was reacting with the alcohol in some unforeseen way. Or I guess it’s also possible it was just the usual cheap instant ramen scent, but it hit us way harder than it should because we were hungover at the time.”

“Yeah, no, we’re not taking that chance. I’d like my nose and my stomach lining to survive this mission. Let’s just prepare the instant ramen with water only, and save the vodka for drinking,” says Skye. “Although the weaponized alcosoup idea will have to be revised once we’re back on the Bus and can con Ward into eating it.”

Simmons grins at her in answer and they rummage through the kitchen to find something to heat the water in. The search turns up a slightly chipped enameled pot that balances precariously when placed on top of the tiny burner on the gas bottle. The flame gives off way more heat than the broken radiator in the corner does, the alcohol does its fair share of warming her up as well, and Skye finally feels herself starting to unthaw. She begins to think that getting stuck in the shabby safe house in rural Poland might now have been as horrible as she initially thought.

It might be the vodka talking, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at the Galentine's Day community on DW.


End file.
